by Tami Lund
“Oh, that’s right. Halloween. Like I said, I don’t even have my Halloween stuff yet.”
He turns in a circle, waving his arm, until he faces me again. “What other purpose is there for costumes?” He sounds so sincere, like he truly believes Halloween is the only occasion for dressing up like something you aren’t.
I lift my hand and flick off each finger, one by one, “Birthday parties, masquerade balls, surprise parties, Mardi Gras, fraternity parties, and kinky sex. To name a few.”
“Kinky—?” His mouth falls open.
“Sex.”
I watch as he stares at the animal costumes. A fox, a raccoon, a rabbit, and—“How do you figure a dinosaur fits with the rest of that crew?” He points at the gigantic brown T. rex posing with a bunch of furry animals that actually still exist, albeit in significantly smaller sizes.
I shrug and walk over to bat the ten-foot tall costume on the nose. “Where else does he fit? I don’t have any caveman costumes. Although that’s a brilliant idea for Halloween. I wonder if I have time to order some? Oh wait, of course I do. Because it’s still eight weeks away.”
He raises his hand, palm out, and shakes his head. “Okay already. I get your point. You do everything last minute. Clearly, I’ve come to the wrong costume shop.”
Well, look at that. Alex Darling grew into a feisty hottie. When we were kids, he always let me win our arguments. Not anymore, apparently.
Damn, that’s stimulating.
Shaking my head, although with a smile on my face, I say, “There are no other costume shops on this side of town. And no Halloween shops will open for at least another two weeks. You are literally the only person in the universe who shops for your costume in the summer.”
“It’s Labor Day weekend,” he argues. “The unofficial end of summer.”
“Emphasis on ‘unofficial.’ And by the way, it’s eighty-five degrees outside. No one is thinking about Halloween right now. Not even me, and October is my biggest month. I literally make as much money during that month as I do for the other eleven combined. And I’m still not thinking about it. Well, I wasn’t, until you came in. And now I’m deliberately trying not to, actually.”
“For someone who makes their living selling Halloween costumes, you sure seem to have a chip on your shoulder about the holiday.”
It’s not Halloween; it’s him. And it’s not a chip, it’s a…what the hell is it? An itch, I think. One I might want him to scratch. One I haven’t focused on in far too long. Not since Tony, the asshole ex who was a little too scary and made me rethink the sort of men I am generally attracted to. Except I haven’t been able to come up with an alternative type to like, so my vibrator’s been getting a hell of a workout for the past year, give or take.
“Look.” I glance at the wooden clock with the giant cobweb painted onto the face. It’s half past four. Normally, on Fridays I stay open until seven or eight, even longer if the closest holiday dictates. But like I pointed out to Alex, it’s eighty-five degrees and sunny outside, and any Chicagoan worth her salt knows summer is fast coming to a close. Therefore, everyone is at the lake. No one will be visiting my shop this afternoon. No one except Alex, whom I’ve inadvertently gotten drunk, and now feel responsible for.
“All right, here’s what we’ll do: I’m going to close up here and take you home so you can sleep it off. And then tomorrow morning, after you’ve gotten over your hangover, you can come back and we’ll try to work out a Halloween costume for you. Okay?”
“Deal,” he says far more easily than he probably would have if he weren’t drunk. “Are you taking me home, like with you?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I don’t even know him anymore. Not to mention, my apartment is the size of a closet and I haven’t cleaned since Artie left yesterday, other than kicking the damn Lego I stepped on out of the way this morning.
“I’m harmless.” He lifts his hands like he’s surrendering to me. “I have plenty of references to vouch for me.” He frowns. “Actually, no, I don’t. I haven’t dated very many girls. I’m not good at it.”
I’m not good at dating either. “Why not?”
“Too nice, too sweet, too considerate, too…” He’s flapping his hand as he speaks, thrusting out first one finger, then another and another. When he gets to the fourth, he pauses then adds, “And the last one said I was too slow.”
“Too slow? Like she thought you were challenged?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t try to get to third base fast enough.”
Ah. Alex Darling is definitely not like every guy I’ve ever not-really-dated.
“Okay, fine, I’ll take you home with me. It’ll be easier anyway than trying to work out where you live.”
“Excellent.” He actually rubs his hands together, like he’s some sort of evil genius. Drunk Alex is kind of cute.
I stick two fingers into my mouth and whistle sharply, and my miniature pinscher, Toby, comes charging out of the storage room. He skids to a stop before Alex then situates himself between the two of us and growls while baring his teeth at my friend.
Toby had issues with Tony too.
“Aw,” Alex says and crouches unsteadily, reaching out his arm like he intends to pet my dog.
“Alex, wait—” Toby snaps, nearly chomping off Alex’s fingers, but luckily he jerks them out of the way fast enough. I hurry over and scoop my little protective pup into my arm. He immediately starts licking my face and wagging his stump of a tail, clearly proud of himself for doing a good deed.
“Toby, he’s one of the good ones. At least, I’m pretty sure he is.”
Toby cocks his head and looks at Alex, like he understands what I’m telling him. His tail stops moving for a second, and then it slowly starts wagging again while his ears prick up and he stretches his neck, trying to get closer to check out my old friend.
I take a step toward Alex, who is eyeing the little dog with a great deal of trepidation, but to his credit, he isn’t moving away.
“It’s okay,” I say to the dog. “He’s my friend.”
Alex darts his gaze to my face and offers a small, uncertain smile, and I get that weird urge to kiss him again. Perhaps my body is informing me that my year of self-imposed celibacy should come to an end. But with Alex? That just seems…
I mean, if he’s still the same kid I grew up with, he’s pretty much the polar opposite of Tony, despite the fact that he shares genes with the woman who threatened my mom with a cleaver. To be fair, though, she was somewhat justified.
So that’s definitely a major strike in the “yes” column.
Although if I’m serious about starting something with Alex, I should probably tell him about Artie, and if I tell him I have custody of my younger brother, I don’t imagine he’d stick around long, even if he is one of the good ones. Let’s face it, that’s some pretty heavy baggage to take on.
Which is why my rule of thumb is, don’t tell potential dates about Artie. Also, date guys who won’t stick around anyway, so I don’t have to worry about not only me getting hurt, but Artie too. The kid gets attached to people way too easily, and my life’s mission is to not break his heart.
I stroke Toby’s head while Alex offers the back of his hand. Toby gives it a couple sniffs then a tentative lick, Alex turns it over and scratches the dog’s ear, and now I’m pretty sure they will be best friends for life.
“Let me just turn off the ‘open’ sign, lock up, and then we can head up to my apartment.” Toby whines as I walk away from Alex, so I give the little dog a glare. “Seriously?” I whisper. “You’re already that smitten?” Although I can’t really blame him.
“When you say up to your apartment, do you mean, like, literally, up there?” Alex points at the fan gently whirring above his head.
“Yep. Pretty handy, eh? Especially in the winter. During summer, though, I sometimes wish I lived at least a few blocks away, for the excuse to get outside. But then again, that’s what Toby’s for. Ready?”
Alex nods, and I lead him toward the storeroom, where the stairs to my apartment are located. It’s not really a living space by most people’s standards. It’s more of a storage area someone half-ass converted with the idea that a person might be desperate enough to reside here. A person like me.
In one corner of the cramped space is the world’s smallest kitchen, next to which is an area sectioned off with flimsy plastic walls, a la the world’s smallest bathroom. It’s comprised of a standing shower, basic sink, toilet, and enough room to turn around in a circle. The rest of the area is taken up by a king-sized bed, a dresser, and a small bookcase piled with toys and Disney DVDs, and that’s pretty much it because, well, that’s all that can fit, unless I want to sleep on a futon.
“Here we are,” I say brightly, before I pause, seeing my living quarters through the eyes of a stranger.
“Er…” His bleary gaze takes in the giant bed—still as rumpled as it was when I crawled out of it this morning—the flat-screen TV attached to the wall, and let’s not forget the pink vibrator I may or may not have spent the night with.
“Shit.” I dive for the telltale object and shove it under my pillow. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”
“I’m pretty sure you couldn’t ever have guests, plural, in this place.”
“Good thing I’m not into ménage.” Jesus, what is wrong with me? I don’t have enough feet for as many times as I keep shoving them into my mouth.
Alex nods like what I said was a serious comment. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Is he? Why?
“Um…” I point at the chair I salvaged from Salvation Army that sits next to the window overlooking the alley behind the shop. “Have a seat. No, sorry. Go ahead and get into the bed. That chair’s not comfortable. I only use it when I’m eating something super sloppy and I don’t want to eat in bed because it’s a bitch to haul that comforter down to the laundromat.”
“Okay,” he says easily enough. He kicks off his shoes and pulls his wallet, a phone, and keys out of his pockets, placing the items on the bedside table before crawling into my bed and propping himself up with my pillows.
And damned if he doesn’t look good there. I shake off the image of him doing that without clothes and instead focus on grabbing a cup and filling it with water. Handing it to him, I say, “I need to take Toby for a walk. I’ll be back in probably half an hour. You’ll be okay?”
He gives me that small, full-lipped smile again. “Sure.”
I make a run for it before lust overrides reason and I end up jumping into that bed with him.
Chapter Three
ALEX
Bright light hits my eyelids, and I groan as I roll away from it—and bump into something. Something soft and smooth and curvy and what the hell? Is there a woman in my bed?
Well, this doesn’t happen all that often. I’m not a virgin, but I’m sure as hell not oversexed, either. More like seriously sex-deprived. Mostly by my own volition, unfortunately. I’m not one who can turn off everything else—specifically emotions—and screw a girl and then walk away and forget her.
Instead, I tend to analyze the scenario, overthink the situation, and then I worry that she’s a psychopath or scheming to put a ring on my finger or, even better, both.
Which leads us back to the current scenario. Me, in bed, with another body. And…what the hell is that? A third body, this one significantly smaller than the other one. I nudge it with my foot and it growls.
Shit.
I force my eyelids open and blink rapidly as the sunlight shoots straight to my brain and makes it pound like there are goddamn hammers in there.
The bed I’m in is huge, much larger than my own, but the abode it’s located in is smaller than my bathroom. Okay, not quite that small, but wow, this is cozy. Someone seriously lives here? And I went home with them last night?
I remember visiting a costume shop, looking for a Halloween getup for my boss’s wife’s upcoming party. And my childhood friend, Vicks, owns the one I found.
She gave me enough information to reassure me that, unfortunately, her life hadn’t improved much with the move across country, and then she offered me homemade booze. And that’s where things get fuzzy. Really dim. I glance at the lump lying next to me.
There’s a dog curled up next to my leg. A Doberman pinscher, it looks like, except shrunk to the size of a toy poodle. Toby. I do remember that from last night. That tiny dog took one look at me and rushed to defend his ladylove like he was a giant, not an ant. Gotta give him props for intimidation tactics. And those tiny, sharp teeth that damn near took my fingers off.
Apparently, he’s decided he doesn’t hate me anymore, if he’s snoozing next to my leg. And if he’s sleeping in this bed, does that mean…? I return my gaze to the mound of blankets and pillows to my left. There’s a person under there; I felt her a moment ago. Pretty sure it’s a her by the smoothness of the leg and the shapeliness of the ass I think I was stroking before snatching my hand away when I first woke.
Tentatively, I grasp the edge of the comforter and pull it down far enough to glimpse the face of the person I apparently slept with last night.
Yep, it’s Vicks.
She’s on her side, facing away from me, her head squished into the pillow, her rainbow-colored hair fanned out across the whiteness. Her lips are slightly parted, and, wow, does she have long lashes. Seems like they sweep halfway down her cheeks.
I had sex with this woman last night.
I did, didn’t I? But I don’t feel like I’ve gotten laid recently. I’m not sated or exhausted or feeling on top of the world or any other emotion I suspect I might experience after hooking up with my childhood friend. Plus—I glance down at the rumpled clothes I’d worn to the office yesterday—I’m not naked.
But she is. Wait—she is?
I tug the blanket down a bit farther, revealing a bare upper back, upon which is etched a trail of butterflies, fluttering from her spine up and over her shoulder. I’m torn between wanting to trace the ink with my fingers and moving the comforter lower to see if what I brushed against a moment ago really was a beautiful woman’s bare ass. Vicks’s bare ass. My dick is swelling, pushing against the zipper on my dress pants. Maybe I should shuck them, you know, to get comfortable.
Jesus, Alex. Get a grip.
I don’t get too much of a grip, apparently, because curiosity wins and I lift the blanket to peek at the rest of her. Which is, yep, as naked as her shoulder. Holy God, look at that heart-shaped ass. Absolute perfection. Like it was made for grabbing, for holding onto while someone—preferably me—pumped into her over and over until we’re both delirious and exhausted.
Yeah, this line of thought is definitely not helping the erection, but what the hell is Vicks doing in bed with me—naked? While I’m fully clothed. Did we have sex last night and then I got dressed before curling up and passing out? That seems silly but, unfortunately, I’m just neurotic enough to do something so ridiculous, given the inebriated state I was no doubt in last night.
Although that still doesn’t feel right. And I’m sorry, but—I glance at the beauty that is Vicks’s bare back again—I cannot imagine I would not be utterly satisfied and feeling rather smug about life in general if I had made love to this woman last night.
“Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I’m doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
Vicks’s voice jars me. I watch as she rolls onto her back, taking the blanket with her so I don’t get quite the same view of the front as I had of the back, and then stretches like a cat. A sexy, lithe, gorgeous cat with rainbow hair.
“Morning,” I say instead of trying to explain my propensity to overanalyze pretty much every situation I’m ever in.
“Morning.”
Toby crawls up the bed between us, not just his tail but the entire back half of his body shaking as he reaches toward Vicks, begging to be petted.
“Hey, baby,” she coos. “Good morning to you,
too.” She makes kissy faces at him, and I’m actually jealous of the damn dog for that little bit of attention. Unless…
“Um, so about last night…”
She chuckles, and the sound is rusty and shoots straight to my balls. I’m glad I’m under the blanket, too, so she can’t see what her morning voice does to my body.
“You were so cute,” she says. “By the time Toby and I got back from our walk, you were passed out cold. And you looked so adorable while you were sleeping, I didn’t have the heart to wake you and put you in a cab so you could go home.”
I’m cute? Adorable? Maybe I’m not jealous of the dog after all. Not what I’m looking for from Vicks. Hot, sexy, irresistible are more what I want here. Not that anyone’s ever said those things about me, but a man can dream. Especially after waking up in a beautiful woman’s bed.
“So, we didn’t?”
She smiles and clutches at the blanket draped over her breasts. “I’d like to think if we did, you’d remember. Even if you were drunk.”
“Me too,” I admit. “It’s just that, well…you’re naked.”
“Oh.” She glances down at herself. “I guess you give off a lot of body heat. I got so hot, but I was too comfortable to get up and adjust the air conditioning. So I took off my clothes instead.” She waves at the floor next to her side of the bed, and I lean over her midsection to glance down at the T-shirt and panties lying there.
Jesus. I slept through all of this? What the hell is wrong with me?
I try to straighten up so I’m not hovering over her prone body, but my hand slips on the comforter and instead I fall on top of her, my chest pressed against her stomach. The accident causes her to lose her grip on the blanket, and it slides down to allow those incredibly peppy breasts to burst free, jiggling slightly for my visual pleasure while the cool air pebbles her nipples.
I press my hands into the bed and lift myself up so I’m back to hovering, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the skin that was inadvertently exposed. She’s lying there, breathing so hard she’s practically panting, and when I dart my gaze up to her face, she’s staring at me with a look I’m wholly unfamiliar with. But I think she wants me to…do something. Touch her? Kiss her? Suckle her breasts? I’m up for all three. Literally up.
